


Lullaby

by iansgallaghers



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iansgallaghers/pseuds/iansgallaghers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was this what Monica felt? The crippling pain, the voice in the back of his head telling him that he was a piece of shit and would be better off dead, and the lack of motivation to do anything? His head was screaming at him, telling him all sorts of horrible things, but above all else, he just felt empty. He had never felt so empty before in his life. Where was the high, the feeling of greatness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Needless to say, I've just come to realize as to how much of Ian's story line is a trigger. I kind of knew it, kind of didn't until the finale. What do I do when I'm triggered? I write and it's never happy. When I'm triggered, I tend to listen to a song called Lullaby. That's what inspired this. It's a jumbled mess, a reflection of my own thoughts, my own experiences, and things like that -- so I apologize in advance if I haven't exactly portrayed bipolar disorder correctly. I'm much more familiar with Bipolar II which isn't as extreme and even then, my knowledge is limited. 
> 
> I feel like the tags cover a lot of it. I'd like to say that it's a trigger warning for everything you could imagine for a mental illness, just to be on the safe side. I'd feel really bad if you got triggered. :/
> 
> I have a missing O key and no beta, so all errors are mine. Yolo.

> "So just give it one more try to a lullaby and turn this up on the radio. If you can hear me now, I'm reaching out, to let you know you're not alone. And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell." --  _Lullaby_

Out of all the things to happen to him, this was the last thing he had expected. What were the odds, one in five? His money had always been on Lip, assuming that the disorder was even passed on. Not him. It wasn’t supposed to be him.

Then again, he wasn’t supposed to be in a relationship with Mickey Milkovich, either. He really needed to stop assuming things.

Was this what Monica felt? The crippling pain, the voice in the back of his head telling him that he was a piece of shit and would be better off dead, and the lack of motivation to do anything? His head was screaming at him, telling him all sorts of horrible things, but above all else, he just felt empty. He had never felt so empty before in his life. Where was the high, the feeling of greatness?

Ian was sitting on the bathroom floor of the Milkovich house, unsure of what to do. He wasn’t even sure how he had gotten to the bathroom. The last couple of days had dragged on, nothing more than a haze. Had he even showered? It took him a moment to realize that yes, he had, because Mickey had managed to drag him into one. After that, it had been back into the bed.

So what promoted him to the bathroom?

_Piece of shit._

_You’re better off dead._

_What the fuck are you waiting for, just do it already!_

He doubled over the sink, his breathing heavy. It was becoming harder to breathe as the voices in his head became louder and the idea of taking the razor to his wrists became more appealing. The seventeen year old gripped the edge of the sink as he tried to steady himself. He was doing everything he could to keep himself from falling over and just staying there on the bathroom floor until someone moved him.

Hours could have passed, Ian didn’t know. He had lost sense of time during his mania stage and it had transferred over to the depressive stage, too. What did Lip say? Was that common? He couldn’t remember. The middle Gallagher could see his brother’s lips moving in his mind but the words weren’t coming out.

And there it was, his reason for being in the bathroom, spotted in his peripheral vision. Ian didn’t think; he just acted.

He was in the process of dismantling the razor when he heard something shuffle near the bathroom door. Ian didn’t focus on that, but razor, the razor blades that were in front of him. It would be so simple, so quick, so easy for him to do it – just like Monica had done. Nobody would miss him. He picked up one of the blades and looked at it, twiddling it between his fingers. It only took a second before the blade sliced his finger, a clean, cut, line with a little bit of blood.

It’d be _easy_.

He was too busy looking at the razor blade to hear anything around him. Despite all of his thoughts, he couldn’t bring himself to put it at his wrists and slice the skin. It was almost like some part of him was screaming at him no, don’t do this, it’s not worth it, that he was stronger than that. Whatever it was, he didn’t know. Ian didn’t even hear the door open and someone speaking to him until he felt a gentle hand around his wrist.

“Ian.”

He blinked a few times before he looked at the person kneeling next to him. He could see the concern, the fear, and the anger in Mickey’s face, but his remained blank.

Mickey didn’t know what to do. _He could become suicidal_. He could recall Fiona’s words easily but that didn’t change anything. From what he could tell, Ian wasn’t exactly suicidal – he was just playing with a razor blade. But because the world was nothing more than shit, he knew that it could take a turn for the worse. With a shaky hand, he took the razor blade out of Ian’s hand and placed it behind him. He’d fight Ian if he had to.

He was willing to do anything for the ginger Gallagher, dammit.

“Are you hungry? I think Mandy’s makin’ chicken.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Mickey flinched at Ian’s tone of voice. It sounded so broken, so weak, everything that Mickey wasn’t used to. He wasn’t shocked at what he said though, because Ian was hardly ever hungry. The only reason he was eating was because he and Mandy were basically forcing it down his mouth just to make sure.

“Then let’s get you back to bed, okay?” The brunette was ready to carry Ian back to the bedroom if he had too. He had done it once before and he was willing to do it again that meant getting his boyfriend back into a somewhat safe environment (because at this point, Mickey had cleared anything that might be dangerous to Ian out of his room, not like anyone else knew that).

The older boy stood up and held a hand out to Ian, which he didn’t take. No, he didn’t expect him to take it – he never did. But Ian got up, even if it was slower than it normally would have been. This was progress, right? Progress that he was fighting his disorder? Mickey didn’t know. He was still trying to make sense of the whole thing.

They didn’t speak as they walked back to Mickey’s bedroom, where Ian instantly curled up into the bed, the blankets at his neck. The Milkovich felt his fists clench together out of frustration – not at Ian, but at himself. He wanted Ian to be okay, better than okay, even. He wanted him to be happy, not sitting on the bathroom floor playing with a razorblade, not having to be forced to take a shower and eat.

Taking a deep breath, Mickey sat on the edge of the bed next to him and gently ran a hand through his hair.

“I want you to talk to me if you feel s-“ Mickey paused. He couldn’t bring himself to say “suicidal.” It’d make it too real. He couldn’t do it. He took another deep breath and gave a small shake of his head. “Like that, okay? I don’t fuckin’ care what time of day it is, talk to me.”

They both knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“You know that I’m always gonna be here for you,” Mickey added on, the ‘no matter what’ implied. Times had changed. They had changed. It was true; he was always going to be there for Ian, through hell and back.

Ian knew it, too, but those thoughts were raging a war with the other ones in his head.

“Leave me alone,” Ian finally mumbled, his voice small as he pulled the blankets up over his head, not wanting to look at his boyfriend. He didn’t want to see his concerned face, the one that was fighting back tears because of him. It was just a reminder as to how much easier it would be on everyone if he was gone.

Mickey didn’t say anything as he got up from his spot on the bed.  He knew that he shouldn’t leave Ian alone, from what he had read, but he knew that it would just make matters worse for himself _and_ Ian if he stayed. With his heart full of regret, he walked out of the room, his head always turning back to look at Ian as he did so. Like hell if he was shutting the door all the way.

He plopped down at the kitchen table and ran his hands over his face before taking a swig of his beer. The baby was crying in the distance followed by Svetlana soothing him, something Mickey didn’t care about right now. His mind was still wrapped around what had just happened.

“How’s he doing?”

Mickey took another swig of his beer before looking back up at his sister. She wore the same expression she did, although probably not as severe. It was full of concern and fear. Mandy was just as scared over Ian as he was; he was her best friend.

“Gonna make it through another night,” Mickey replied after a moment of thought. It was true; he was going to make it through another night. That’s how they were taking this; day by day. That was the only thing they could do until they worked out a solid plan that involved him getting the help he needed while not being admitted.

Mandy gave his shoulder a tight squeeze, a sad smile on her face.

“We all are. He’s gonna be okay.”

Mickey was just waiting for the day when he’d start believing her.


End file.
